


take my time, take it easier

by endofadream



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Barebacking, Bondage, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Dirty Talk, Dom Steve Rogers, Kinda, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mirror Sex, Sub Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, light humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 11:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofadream/pseuds/endofadream
Summary: “Impatient, aren’t we?”Bucky blinks his eyes open, vision sliding into focus to an incredibly welcoming sight: Steve stands in the doorway, hip propped against the frame and arms crossed over his chest. One corner of his mouth is pulled up in a smirk.It makes Bucky’s insides melt.





	take my time, take it easier

**Author's Note:**

> "this is only going to be around two thousand words," i said to myself.

Steve’s got Bucky whining already and it hasn’t even been ten minutes.

To be fair, Steve’s had him whining in less time, but those instances had been on purpose. If he’s being honest, Bucky is pretty sure that Steve doesn’t know how hot it gets him to see his reflection in the mirror during sex, _especially_ with the way he looks right now, all trussed up like a goddamn hog waiting for the spit, hands bound above his head and legs forced wide by the bar of metal—black, because it’s winter and Bucky is pale and Steve likes how it stands out—shackled to his ankles.

Their full-length mirror is adjacent to the bed, propped in the corner and angled towards it. In his reflection Bucky can see his flushed skin, cheeks down to his chest a pale pink, his nipples tight and dark. His arms above his head pulls his lats and makes them bulge. When his head lolls to the side to finally make eye contact with his reflection, his eyes are glazed, even to him, and that’s when he knows that Steve has done well.

The soft rope over his wrists creaks as he flexes his right bicep, the metal plates softly clicking in realignment on his left. It’s only standard rope, so he could easily break it, but Steve gets a kick out of knowing that Bucky is only vulnerable because he asked him to be. Bucky doesn’t blame him. It revs his engine just as much _being_ willingly vulnerable; that’s not something he gets a lot of, if at all, anymore.

Hell, he doesn’t think he’s even been truly vulnerable since before he was drafted. For a moment, as that thought drifts across his mind, he marvels.

Another time not so long ago that would have sent everything crashing down and ended up with him curling in on himself trying to fight off the flashbacks. It’s incredible how different everything is now, how different _he_ is.

He’s fought tooth and nail to get here, to _stay_ here even when SHIELD wanted him shunted off to super max before Steve put his foot down. So, really, how can Bucky let the past bother him when the future is here and bearing a very domineering, _very_ beefy Steve Rogers?

(Well, it’s easier said than done, but Bucky’s _trying_.)

Another low whine builds in his throat as he closes his eyes. Steve had said he’d be _right back_ —it’s been at _least_ ten minutes now.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

Bucky blinks his eyes open, vision sliding into focus to an incredibly welcoming sight: Steve stands in the doorway, hip propped against the frame and arms crossed over his chest. One corner of his mouth is pulled up in a smirk.

With the amount of control Steve currently has over Bucky that smirk is a dangerous thing, sharp and pointed directly at every inch of him that he’s given up for Steve.

It makes Bucky’s insides melt.

“Steve,” he says plaintively.

“Bucky,” Steve mocks.

The dismissiveness of it sends embarrassed shockwaves through Bucky’s body. Like Steve can’t be bothered with the man he tied up and left. Like Bucky is just a _thing_. Something to play with, put away for later once Steve’s had his fun. It’s ironic that Bucky actually enjoys this. For decades that’s what he’d been, though his purpose was decidedly less for pleasure.

His therapist would say that it’s his way of coping, which is probably true. Mostly it just boils down to it being _Steve_.

Pushing off of the doorframe, Steve lets his hands fall to his sides and walks across the room in long, commanding strides. Heavy-lidded, Bucky’s eyes track his movements as he gets closer to the bed; in response his legs twitch, trying to spread wider.

Steve’s perceptive gaze catches it. The sharp smirk blossoms into a full-fledged smile. It’s almost gleeful when he says, “Little slut wants to spread his legs more, huh? Even though I put that bar on its widest setting.”

His tone is light, indifferent. Maybe a little scorning, making Bucky sweat and squirm. When Steve bypasses the bed completely to head for their dresser, Bucky very nearly cries.

He settles for pulling at the ropes instead. “Steve,” he says again, petulant, though he knows it’s pointless. Against his belly his cock twitches once, pre-come spilling clear onto the fine trail of hair. He hasn’t touched himself at all: Steve locking the bar around his ankles and then kissing him breathless with a hand on his chin holding tight to keep him steady had been more than enough to make him hard. The anticipation takes care of the rest. “Steve, _please_.”

“Hmm? What was that?” Steve pauses in folding a shirt, looking back over his shoulder like he just realized Bucky was there. His eyes comically wide in fake surprise. “You say somethin’, Buck?”

Oh, if Bucky could _scowl_. But scowling will only get him punished, and Bucky very much wants Steve’s dick _in_ his ass tonight, not his hand _on_ his ass. So he tries again and says, “ _Please_ , Steve. _Sir_.” He’s good at begging, as well as sounding contrite even when he’s anything but. Steve knows, Bucky’s sure, but he plays along anyway.

A pause, then Steve sighs, heavy and put-upon, like Bucky is such a burden that he can’t bear to deal with him. Embarrassingly, it makes Bucky harder, makes his cock pulse again. More pre-come drools from the slit onto his belly.

“I guess,” says Steve dismissively as he adds the folded shirt to a pile already on the dresser, “that I can help you out.”

Bucky whimpers and says, “Thank you, _thank you_ —”

“Oh, did you think I meant right now?” Steve interrupts.

Everything but Bucky’s stubbornly-hard cock deflates at that.

“Sir?” he asks, quietly hopeful.

Steve ignores him, opening their closet to put away the neat pile of folded shirts. For a few minutes he putters around in there, empty hangers clinking together. Bucky is going to go fucking _insane_."

“I’ll be good,” he pleads, voice thin and soft, the way Steve likes it. “Sir, I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

“Oh, of course you will,” Steve replies. It comes out slightly muffled from being inside the closet. “You know better than to misbehave.”

“I do,” Bucky agrees. “I’ll do anything for you. Let me show you.” He tugs at his restraints again, arching his back, and can’t help but send a glare in the direction of the closet. When Steve resurfaces Bucky’s all repentance and sweet desperation.

Looking thoughtful, Steve prowls around the bed, eyes never leaving Bucky’s. Bucky swallows hard; it isn’t an overstatement to say that he feels like a bug right now, pinned down and awaiting its fate.

“Anything?” Steve asks, drawing the word out slow.

And god, what a way to fucking _go_.

Bucky nods. He’s fairly pleased he managed to do it casually. “Yeah. _Yes._ Whatever you want.”

He glances back into the mirror, and Steve follows suit. In their reflection Bucky watches another grin stretch Steve’s lips.

“Oh, you little _slut_ ,” he says affectionately. He stares at Bucky’s mirror image like he’s going to devour him. “You like lookin’ at yourself, huh? Preening like a little fuckin’ bird. Well, I guess you got a right to, with a body like that. Face could use a little work, though.”

Bucky pouts. Steve laughs, then reaches out to pat Bucky’s head like he does Clint’s dog Lucky. The only difference is that after two heavy pats that lean more towards thumps Steve takes a great fistful of Bucky’s hair and yanks. Then shakes, just slightly, just enough to make Bucky’s heart speed up.

“You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for you,” Steve says, forcing Bucky to look up at him, tall and commanding. The stretch the angle puts on his neck is going to ache. Bucky can’t wait.

“Thank you, Sir,” he gasps.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Steve says. He lets go of Bucky’s hair, shoves his head down for good measure. Bucky moans. Then moans again when he sees Steve’s hands go to his belt buckle.

He’s perfunctory about it, like Bucky isn’t dick-level and gagging for it. The belt buckle clinks as it falls open; the _snick_ of the zipper’s teeth is slow and teasing. Steve pushes the loose flaps of his jeans open wide, then grabs a fistful of Bucky’s hair again to pull him up off the pillow.

When Steve shoves Bucky’s face against the hot, clothed bulge of his cock, Bucky could die happy with that intimate, musky scent surrounding him. He gets in maybe two good, deep breaths before Steve is shoving him forward hard and cutting off his air supply.

He splays his palm wide across the back of Bucky’s head, tells him to stay there. It leaves Bucky barely any room to breathe; as he exhales Steve’s cock twitches hard against the open circle of his mouth. Steve exhales raggedly in turn, murmuring, “That’s it, _good_ boy.”

Bucky works him over the best he can with Steve’s iron grip holding him in place, going until the front of Steve’s briefs are soaked and saliva is running down his chin. He has to turn his head every so often when his lungs begin burning, and Steve gives him just enough slack for a few shallow breaths. His jaw and tongue are already beginning to ache, and the angle that his neck is at means a slow aching burn has begun spreading, but Bucky is still so hard against his own belly that he feels lightheaded with it.

Finally, Steve abruptly pulls him back, tilting Bucky’s head upward again. Bucky blinks, sucking in great lungfuls, and takes in Steve’s dark eyes, the flush high on his cheeks. His throat bobs with a heavy swallow, and Bucky lets a dreamy smile spread across his face.

“That did it for you, huh?” Steve asks, knowing full well how pointless the question is. Bucky’s licked his own come off the floor before. Hell, he’s licked Steve’s fucking _shoes_ and still got off on it. If Steve is involved, ninety-nine percent of the time Bucky is going to be fully on board.

“Uh-huh,” he says foggily. A sharp tug at his hair and a vicious shake of his head has him stammering, “I—I mean, yes, Steve. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Damn right you are.” Steve lets go of Bucky’s hair, but Bucky keeps his head still because he’s good, he _is_ , and from the soft smile Steve gives him as his hand goes to the waistband of his briefs he knows Bucky is, too. “There you go, see? You know what to do.”

As Steve eases the waistband of his underwear beneath his balls his cock springs free, bobbing heavily between them. The foreskin is pulled back, exposing the flushed head slick from pre-come and Bucky’s saliva. The vein underneath ticks in time with Steve’s pulse.

“Please,” Bucky begs before he’s even prompted. He lets his jaw fall slack, tongue covering his lower teeth. He wants to feel that pulse on his tongue, Christ, wants Steve to stretch him wide until he aches.

Bucky’s always liked giving head, even back during the first time he’d gotten his mouth on Steve. It had been clumsy, then, both of them awkward, ungainly colts treading dangerous waters. The next time hadn’t been, though, Bucky made sure of it. Even seventy years of brainwashing couldn’t get rid of that wide-eyed look on Steve’s face as he came down Bucky’s throat for the first time.

Steve sighs heavily, jarring Bucky out of his lingering memory. “Fuckin’ desperate little cockslut.” He grabs Bucky’s jaw and forces it shut, giving Bucky time to retract his tongue to avoid injury. It makes his teeth clack together painfully, the noise reverberating in his skull. “Who said I was gonna let you use your mouth, huh? I didn’t tie you up and force your legs open just for a lousy suckjob.”

It’s a lie and Bucky knows it. As much as he wants to protest and remind Steve that he’s never complained about his mouth, Steve’s the one in charge, and if he changes his mind at the last minute all Bucky can do is go along for the ride. Besides, it’s _hot_ when that Captain America voice is used on him.

So Bucky says nothing, just looks up at Steve imploringly. Widens his eyes on purpose to make himself look more innocent, just to see what Steve does.

Steve’s nostrils flare. His grip tightens, brief, before he lets go completely and steps back. He strips off his shirt and tosses it to the side, baring that glorious torso with all of its pale skin and rock-hard muscles.

Like this, shirtless, with his pants undone and his cock out as he stands at the foot of the bed, he’s every bit of all the gay porn that Bucky has devoured in this century.

For all his stoicism Steve isn’t unaffected: he’s flushed pink from his neck down to his chest the way he gets when he’s turned on, and his nipples are two peaked rosy buds that Bucky wants to lick until Steve finally loses that damn ironclad composure.

Steve retrieves the bottle of lube from their nightstand but leaves the box of condoms alone. It makes Bucky’s stomach flip pleasantly; foregoing rubbers is still a fairly new concept to them, and Bucky finds that he enjoys it more than Steve does when he bottoms.

There’s something to be said about the mess that comes with it, how it feels when Steve pulls out and his come follows in a warm rush. Bucky’s always had a thing about being owned, and living in a century when neither of them can catch anything and don’t have to hide their sexuality or rush to clean up after sex has its perks; namely, Steve coming in his ass at least four times a week.

Right from the start Steve pushes two slicked fingers in, making Bucky tense and then arch up with a moan. The ropes around his wrists creak when he pulls, and Steve sharply says, “Don’t you fucking break that rope, Bucky.”

Bucky immediately stills, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. Steve watches him, rubbing his thumb over Bucky’s taint as he praises, “Good boy.”

Bucky exhales a shaky breath at the added stimulation. He swallows hard, trembling as Steve stretches his fingers, working them slowly as Bucky gradually loosens around him.

Steve hums, grabbing the bottle of lube with his clean hand and popping it open with a practiced thumb. The steady pressure inside him disappears for a moment; then three fingers, newly slick, press at Bucky’s rim before sliding in with only slight resistance. He squirms, moans a breathy, “ _Sir_.”

“Look at you,” Steve replies. His fingers work in and out with filthy noises that make Bucky burn so hot he’s like the sun. “Your little hole is so greedy for any bit of me it can get, isn’t it?”

Bucky nods fervently, tipping his head back to dig it into the pillows as Steve’s fingers graze his prostate, stoking that fire low in his belly into a roaring flame. “Y-yeah,” he gasps, feeling a trickle of sweat slide down his temple. “Oh— _please_.”

“You want more?” Steve airily asks, pushing against Bucky’s knee with his free hand, forcing it wider. The strain makes Bucky grunt, mouth opening for an answer that doesn’t come. Steve tuts, asks, “What’s that, sweetheart? You want another finger? Or do you want my cock? Gotta answer me.”

Bucky opens his mouth again, but all that comes out is a pinched moan as Steve meanly twists his fingers and pulses the tips against his prostate. It takes a few tries, his throat is so dry, but he finally manages to grit out, “Your cock. God— _Steve_. Need your cock in me.”

“Askin’ so pretty for me,” Steve murmurs, leaning up. He tips Bucky’s face up, kisses him sweet, makes him goddamn melt with the way his tongue slips into Bucky’s mouth to rub against his own. “Always my good boy, huh?”

“Yours,” Bucky agrees, arching up to rub his nose against Steve’s since he sure as shit can’t use his arms to pull Steve back down to him. “Always have been, Sir.”

Steve pulls back to remove his jeans and underwear, leaving them in a messy pile by the foot of the bed. From their nightstand he grabs the key for the cuffs around Bucky’s ankles, gently rubbing the reddened skin as each cuff is removed. Bucky watches, that familiar fondness blooming deep within him as he observes Steve’s delicate, diligent work.

Once the bar is on the floor and Steve has deemed Bucky’s ankles sufficiently rubbed he crawls up the bed between Bucky’s legs, kissing him wet and messy until Bucky is trying desperately to arch up against him without breaking the ropes.

Steve pulls back. “Think you can keep those there?” he asks, nodding at Bucky’s hands. At Bucky’s whine of an answer he adds, “Can’t believe I haven’t told you how gorgeous to look like this, baby boy. Tied up just for me to use. Maybe if you’re good, if you keep those hands where you’re told, I’ll let you come once I’ve made a mess of that pretty ass. How’s that sound, hmm?”

Bucky looks down at what’s bobbing between Steve’s legs and very seriously says, “Sounds fucking great, Sir.”

Steve grins, teeth glinting in the light. “That’s what I like to hear. Wrap your legs around my waist, baby.”

Steve slicks himself up once Bucky does, and Bucky greedily watches the flex of his bicep as he works his fist tight over his cock. When Steve notices he grabs his jaw with his clean hand and forcefully turns Bucky’s head back to the mirror.

“You look so good taking a cock,” Steve says, lining himself up, the blunt curve of the head rubbing against Bucky’s hole. “Be a shame if you didn’t see it.”

Then Steve leans his weight forward, holding the base of his cock steady as he begins to press in.

Bucky gasps, eyes sliding closed at the familiar burn before he forces them back open, back at his reflection in the mirror.

Though these days he and Steve are of a similar height and build, his reflection right now is anything but: with his arms stretched above his head and his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist, Steve’s hulking torso is a stark contrast with the bunched muscle of his tricep holding him up and the bulge of his bicep as he clutches Bucky’s jaw. The broad slope of his shoulders dwarf Bucky’s supine form.

Steve buries himself steadily, each thick, glorious inch making Bucky pant harder. He can see it, the way Steve disappears into his body, balls full and heavy against Bucky’s ass once he bottoms out. When he moves his focus to his face he almost doesn’t recognize the blissed-out look he finds there, the ruddiness of his cheeks and the knit of his brows..

“Looks good, huh?” Steve asks, infuriatingly coherent above him. Both hands go to the pillow on either side of Bucky’s head, caging him in. “You’re so stunning, sweet thing. If I could keep you on my cock all day I would.”

He glances askance at the mirror, his eyes dark where they meet Bucky’s. It’s so possessive that Bucky almost loses it then and there.

“Sir,” he begs, though what it’s for he doesn’t know. On one hand he wants Steve to fuck him senseless, hard and rough and quick the way they both enjoy, but on the other hand he wants to savor it, take his time and let Steve unspool him like a loose thread.

“So good,” Steve praises, hips pressing forward, his plush lower lip between his teeth. “Christ, baby, can you believe that people still think the Winter Soldier is scary? Imagine them seeing you now, tied up and mewling like a helpless kitten while I slip it to you like you’re some kinda good-time gal.”

Bucky moans loudly, the words hitting him with a suddenness that isn’t unlike lightning. It sure leaves him feeling singed and oversensitive like it was.

“You ain’t that,” Steve continues, rocking steadily and adjusting the angle as he drags his cock against Bucky’s insides. The ropes creak, Bucky unable to stop tugging at them unconsciously as pleasure kindles low in his belly. “Not the Winter Soldier, never anything but my sweet Buck who’ll spread his legs for me whenever I ask.”

The praise, as buried in humiliation as it is, curls something warm in him; it’s unexpected, but not unwelcome. Much of his recovery has been about accepting that, although physically present as the Winter Soldier, it doesn’t mean that’s who he is. 

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, feeling tears prick at his eyes. “Oh _fuck_ , _oh_ —”

“You know I’m so sweet on you, baby,” Steve continues, _finally_ pulling back until just the fat head of his cock is sheathed inside Bucky. In the mirror it’s absolutely obscene, the lube-slick length of him gleaming in the light. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

Then Bucky isn’t seeing anything else as Steve slams forward hard enough to make the bed frame groan loudly. It punches a strangled scream from Bucky’s throat as his eyes squeeze shut.

So much for slow.

“Open them,” Steve demands, hardly breathless at all, that bastard.

Bucky does with monumental effort.

“There you go,” Steve says, that sharp grin returning. Sweat shines at his temples, dampening the dirty blond flop of his hair. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You just make such a pretty goddamn picture tied up for me. Should keep you like this so I can take it whenever I want it. Fill you so full of my come it never stops leaking out of you.”

Jeez, but sometimes Bucky forgets how filthy of a mouth Steve has. The world sees him as a paragon of virtue and forgets that little Steve Rogers came from the rough and tumble of Brooklyn and spent his fair share of time in places historians would probably have a heart attack over if they knew.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Buck?” Steve asks. “Answer me.”

Bucky nods frantically, gasping at the heavy fill of Steve’s cock, the heat burning at the base of his spine. “Y-yeah, Sir, _fuck_. Love it.”

Steve’s thrusts grow punishing, the wet slap of flesh loud in Bucky’s ears. His legs slip from their vice hold on Steve’s waist and splay open, weak and helpless as Bucky tips his head back against the pillow. He tries to pull words from his useless mouth, but all he can do is breathe heavily into the overheated space between their bodies.

On his next thrust in Steve grunts like he does when he’s close, and Bucky’s belly twists tight in anticipation. Steve’s cock drags over his prostate and Bucky shudders violently. The ropes creak again.

“Come in me,” he pants.

One of Steve’s hands goes to Bucky’s hair, gripping it tight and pulling. Bucky moans, wanton even to his own ears.

“Want me to come in you?” Steve asks. He looms over him, imposingly beautiful, and tugs Bucky’s hair harder to force his head back. The way it bares his neck makes Bucky’s cock pulse between them, slick, sticky pre-come everywhere. “Want me to blow my load in this tight ass?”

Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed at the wave of lust that rushes through him. His left arm whirs again as he twists, rolling his hips to meet Steve’s. Steve is so gorgeous in this light: Bucky is so fucking in love with him.

“Please,” he begs. He clenches down, makes Steve swear loudly, the fluid movements of his hips stuttering as his chest heaves.

Steve lets go of Bucky’s hair, then, and draws himself up, both hands going to Bucky’s waist and clenching tight. Bucky drinks in the unimpeded view of Steve’s tits with their pebbled nipples. Sweat shines here, too, the skin flushed pink.

Steve stares down at him, lips parted. Bucky arches, lifting his hips in silent invitation, as Steve pulls out and slams back into him. Bucky cries out, Steve’s name lost to a moan. 

When Steve comes a few thrusts later with a long, low groan that rumbles in Bucky’s chest, he pushes as deep as he can and grips Bucky’s hips so hard that Bucky already knows finger-shaped bruises will be left in their place.

At the warm rush Bucky whines, twisting on the bed as Steve’s cock jerks and pulses inside him. Steve sucks in great breaths as fine tremors shake his shoulders, eyes wide as he looks down at where they’re joined like he can’t believe he gets to have this.

Later Bucky will let that stroke his ego. Right now he’s so hard it hurts, so turned on that all coherent thought is limited to getting off as quickly as possible.

Steve bends to kiss him, slow and filthy, licking deep into Bucky’s mouth. Shifting his weight Steve cups Bucky’s jaw with his left hand, pulling back enough to murmur, “Gonna jerk you off now, sweetheart, and you’re gonna watch.”

He uses the hand still on Bucky’s jaw to turn his head, then lifts up and slowly pulls out. Bucky shifts, keening as Steve’s mostly-soft cock slips out of him, followed by a slow but steady trickle of semen. Christ, how does Bucky forget every time how much fucking spunk Steve produces?

Because of the angle he can’t see between his legs, but he doesn’t need to worry about that for very long: Steve slips three fingers easily into him, crooking them just right to make Bucky shudder.

When Steve pulls his hand away his fingers down to his palm glisten with thick white.

That hand then wraps around Bucky’s cock and Bucky shouts, arching up so hard he finally manages to snap the ropes, the headboard nearly coming with it. He half-expects Steve to punish him, but all he gets is a chuckle as Steve strokes him root to tip in a steady, maddening rhythm.

“I’m surprised you lasted this long,” he observes. Bucky’s cockhead is so red as it disappears in and out of the tight circle of Steve’s fist. The slickness of Steve’s come makes each pass squelch obscenely. “You’ve never had good self-control, especially when you can’t touch me.”

“Fuck—fuck off,” Bucky gasps, grabbing Steve’s hair now that his hands are finally free. He kisses the smirk right off Steve’s face, shoving his tongue deep, until Steve pulls him back with his free hand and twists him to face the mirror.

“I said watch,” Steve orders, and Bucky does, because he’s good, he’s _so good_.

It’s quick, Bucky’s hands slipping to clutch at Steve’s shoulders, back arched high off the bed. Bucky would otherwise normally be embarrassed about the expressiveness of his O-face, but it’s hard to be when Steve is staring at him in the mirror like Bucky is single-handedly the greatest thing that he’s ever seen.

It also doesn’t help that Steve is murmuring sweet, filthy praise as Bucky spills wet over Steve’s fist and up his own chest, each pulse drawing a guttural moan from somewhere deep in his chest. His thighs, where they’re locked around Steve’s waist, tremble.

Bucky is still shuddering even once Steve lets go, and Steve bends to kiss him, whispering, “You’re okay, I got you. God, baby, you’re so fuckin’ good for me, so goddamn gorgeous I can’t stand it. You know that?” He pets through Bucky’s hair with his clean hand, brushing it off his forehead and tucking it behind his ears. “You drive me goddamn crazy, Buck.”

“Fuck, Steve.” Bucky grabs the back of Steve’s neck with his flesh hand, sliding his fingers through the soft, short hairs there. “Think you broke me, you big idiot.”

Against Bucky’s neck Steve laughs, trailing his lips wet and warm over the skin like Bucky didn’t just blow his load less than five minutes ago. “I think you’re full of it,” he rumbles against Bucky’s clavicle. “Actin’ like last week you didn’t beg me to fuck you again ten minutes after we both came.”

“Yeah, well. Last week you didn’t tie me to the headboard for an hour.”

Steve lifts his head; his face is all dopey, smile wide and lopsided, and Bucky feels his heart clench something fierce. Jesus, he fucking loves this big, stupid man so much. Steve’s hair is messy, probably from Bucky’s fingers, and he smooths it down, letting his metal fingers trail down Steve’s cheek to brush over his lips before falling back to his side.

“Tell me you didn’t like it,” Steve challenges. It’s playful, but there’s still that glint in his eyes, that steel that Bucky fell in love with over eighty years ago. Bucky laughs, free and easy like he can only be with his fella, and tugs Steve in for a long, slow kiss.

“Baby, there ain’t a single thing you could do to me that I _wouldn’t_ like,” he says, gently nipping at Steve’s full lower lip. “Within reason, of course.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s big hands cups the side of his face. “You wanna test that theory?”

He shifts between Bucky’s legs, rolling his hips forward, and Lord _above_ , the fucker is already hard. Bucky sighs loudly, but his own cock betrays him by jerking against his belly as it quickly gets on board.

“Depends on what you have in mind,” he says flippantly, arching a brow like he isn’t always ready to let Steve take what he wants.

Steve hums, already sliding down Bucky’s body. When he reaches Bucky’s cock Bucky sucks in a breath, abs clenching, but Steve bypasses it completely to sling Bucky’s legs over his shoulders. It isn’t until Steve stares up at him, brows raised, that Bucky realizes what’s about to happen.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers.

Steve just laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is [here](http://endofadream.tumblr.com) and instagram is [here](http://instagram.com/wintersoldiered) if you’re into that sorta thing!
> 
> reviews are always lovely because i love talking about my works!


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